Millstone - Novel 01 Ch. 11

Hanging the Chimney Hook

All Rights Reserved © 2020, Rick Haydn Horst

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter Eleven

When we reached the third floor of the precinct, we found a few uniformed officers at their desks writing reports and Detective Edgerton in the conference room getting chummy with James Malor as they both ate dinner. Before them, they had a mouthwatering medium grilled steak, a plain sweet potato, and grilled asparagus.

"Having a date, are we?" asked Max.

"Hardly," said Edgerton.

Malor cleared his throat to gain Edgerton's attention. "Maybe once this is all over, we can have a proper one." Malor winked at the detective, and it made him laugh.

I hovered over Edgerton's plate and sniffed repeatedly. "That smells delicious; is that Delmonico? What restaurant is that from?"

With lowered brows and his mouth pressed into a thin line, he moved me away in irritation. "Yes, it is! Do you mind? I'm trying to eat, and you're sucking up all the smell."--he picked up his plastic utensils--"It's from Kovac's a couple of blocks from here. I highly recommend it, but unless you get takeaway, you need a reservation."--he resumed eating--"So, what do you have for us?"

"You won't believe it," I said, "but Sister Foustina says the stone in that ring belongs to the Roman Catholic Church, and she claims to have brought documentation from the Vatican to prove it."

"You're right, I don't believe it."--he continued to saw at his steak--"If the RCC wants that ring, they better have something definitive to prove it."

"The condensed version is that, apparently, Tommy told her that Chadwell had the ring but was dragging his feet about reporting the find. She recognized it and believed that it belonged to the RCC, so she went to the Vatican to get proof. She called Tommy about having the documents the day they left to return home. Tommy spoke to his boss about it that day, and she says that would have been Bo Pecker."

"The sisters got back early last Thursday morning," said Max.

Malor stopped chewing for a moment. "If she called the day they left, that could be no later than Wednesday."

Max checked the calendar on his phone. "So, he told Pecker on the 24th or 25th of June."

Malor swallowed and shook his head. "No, that can't be. The Thornbrier job ended on Flag Day, Friday the 14th of June, and I heard Pecker say that day how he felt exhausted and couldn't wait to leave Monday to spend his two-week vacation in Greece."

"So," said Max, "he would have gotten back last Monday on the 1st of July."

"Who had he left in charge?" I asked.

Malor began cutting his asparagus and shrugged. "There's many people it could have been. I only know my foreman when on specific jobs, so Tommy might have meant his foremen or whoever Pecker left in charge overall? Delilah, the office manager, could help you narrow that down."

Max said, "So, Tommy must have quit Alliance on Tuesday or Wednesday when he told whoever it was about the ring."

"Probably," said Malor. "I just know that on our date Wednesday night, Tommy said he had quit Alliance, and his roommate helped him get a job at the cab company."

"Wouldn't he have given them notice?" asked Max.

"Oh no," said Malor, "Tommy never had a specialized job, and Alliance never cares when peons quit without notice, they just plug another one into the assignment."

"You did good, fellas," Edgerton said. "I'm pleased."--he turned to his dining companion--"And we could not have gotten this far without your invaluable assistance, Mr. Malor."

"You're welcome, detective," he said, "and you're also welcome to call me James."

"Once the case is closed, we'll see."

Malor's brows rose with the tip of his head. "I do like a man who plays hard to get."

Edgerton turned to us. "Go home, fellas. The killer's not going anywhere. They want the ring. And by the way, starting tomorrow, you'll have some assistance."

"Oh? Who's that?"

"Your neighbor," he said.

I leaned over the table to look him in the face. "You didn't...," I said.

"Yes, I did," he said with satisfaction. "I won't steal his thunder. He'll be ecstatic to give you the details himself. So, get going, guys. Mr. Malor and I have a conversation to finish."

"One last thing," I said, "will you stakeout the Chadwell home for the next few nights?"

"Oh, so you think the killer will continue to look for the ring, do you?" he asked.

"There's a possibility."

He laughed. "I already have that covered. Good-Bye," he said, urging us to leave.

The sun wouldn't set until just after 8:30 that evening, so we still had plenty of light outside, and the air felt cooler than earlier. Once we settled into the roadster, I texted Winter to set up a time to update her on the case, and she promptly replied that we should come by at nine o'clock the next morning at her apartment. We invited Albert to dinner, but he invited us to join him and a couple from the club to a gay venue called Gymnosity on Cable Street, so we agreed and changed course.

Max searched the net for Gymnosity. He learned that it opened at five in the afternoon, and it functioned as a restaurant until ten at night; afterward, it became a nightclub that stayed open until five in the morning. Max downloaded their app, and once they verified our age, they would allow us entry. You could order from their waiters or over their app, and they charged things to your account automatically by scanning your QR-code. Unlike any restaurant I had experienced, the instant you enter Gymnosity--gymnos meaning naked, all clothing must come off. Naturally, Max loved any excuse to strip down, and I was growing accustomed to others seeing me.

Gymnosity had valet parking for those who wanted it, but we self-parked and walked inside. We checked-in by the QR-code on Max's phone, and once we showed them our IDs to verify our age, they gave us two complimentary towels with a secure bag for our clothing in the disrobing room. They hoped we would enjoy ourselves and asked that we never remove our footwear.

The relatively dark environment, with its rich, deep colors, had a far quieter atmosphere than I figured it would; we heard only high-energy techno played at an elevator-music volume. We informed the staff that we were meeting Albert Sawyer, and they told us his party had taken room 23. Upon reaching the main room, we discovered an enormous dance floor that they had surrounded by lounge booths, and along the outside wall, we saw rooms enclosed by heavy merlot-colored draperies.

Beyond the curtain of room 23, Albert sat at an oversized square table for eight, with a handsome, massive-looking, 30-year-old man, who wore his black hair in a fade style that blended into his thick stubble beard and had a hairy muscular body. The space was empty besides the table, and we noticed they had draped their towels over their parsons chairs.

"Cousin!" Albert greeted us with a hug. "May I introduce friends of mine; they live at the club too on the first floor. This is Freddy Owens, known at the club as Huge because he's 7 foot 2, and well, as you can see, he's huge."

Freddy reached out his hand to us, and we shook it. "Sorry for not standing," he said, pointing down at the tabletop. "Joey wouldn't want me to interrupt."

Max and I both glanced under the table to see a shadowy figure there with his head between Freddy's legs.

"Don't worry about him," said Albert. "That's Joey Dvorak; he'll come up for air after Freddy cums again."

Max laughed. "Again? How many times have you cum, Freddy?"

Clearly, he was enjoying his blowjob; his breathing sounded erratic, he couldn't keep his head still, and he would grunt on occasion. "Just once, here," he said, "but when Joey wants it, I give it to him."

"And Joey wants it a lot," Albert said. "But speaking of getting off, guess what! I have news. Not only has Edgerton gotten me off suspension, but he said that they will still offer me the test to make detective."

"Congratulations!" said Max.

"That's great! So, how did he do it?"

"He spoke to the inspector and said that if I hadn't done what I did, it could have caused trouble with the investigation of Chadwell's death. Tommy's body was set for cremation; that's a free service by the City of Franklin for those without specific requests. When the autopsy results came back, it hadn't told us much, but what it hadn't said is just as important. If they had cremated him without it, we could have lacked critical information. So, he convinced them that not only should the inspector lift the suspension, but I should be commended for taking the initiative. And in doing that, they won't pass me over for the test."

"When will they give the test?" asked Max.

"The last Monday of the month," he said. "When he talked to me, he caught me up on the case, so I'm good on that end."

I knew it couldn't have gone as simply as that. Nothing is that simple, especially when it comes to such situations. If the view changed to Albert having done the right thing, worthy of commending, it meant that Edgerton must take the rap for not having requested the autopsy from the start. He hadn't seemed too concerned about it at the station, so perhaps he merely got a slap on the hand. Whatever the case, he took a chance; he must care about Albert enormously.

Suddenly, Freddy began to huff and convulse, and his eyes closed during his orgasm. It must have been a good one and watching him brought a smile to my face.

A few moments later, he moved his seat back and stood. The guy looked like he had a professional basketball player's height, and he had an uncut cock that looked about nine inches, but of average thickness, it arched out and downward, the perfect size and shape for blowing, so I understood why Joey wanted it a lot. Once he had backed away, Joey emerged from beneath the table. The guy had dirty blonde hair and almost the build of a fireplug, short and a bit thick. Standing beside Freddy, who squatted to kiss him, the effect of appearing short looked even more exaggerated.

Joey turned to us. "Not what you expected, right?"--in boldness, he came forward to shake our hands, and we introduced ourselves--"Just to head-off the common questions," he said, "no, I don't have dwarfism; everyone in my family just has an extraordinary vertical challenge. I'm 4 feet 7 inches tall, and while I may look like a teenager, I'm actually 26."

"Joey and I have a lot of fun," said Freddy with a mischievous smile and looked down upon him from his incredible height. Once Joey sat, Freddy politely pushed him up to the table and took his own chair beside him.

"Trouble tells us you're both private dicks," said Joey, "that sounds intriguing."

"Trouble likes that phrase a lot," I said.

Albert glanced at me and smiled. "What, you don't like the phrase 'private dicks?'"

I laughed. "You're a naughty man, Al." I turned to Joey and Freddy. "So, what do you guys do?"

"We run a phenomenally successful website, called Jack and the Giant, where people all over the world pay to watch us have sex. We have a studio, and everything on camera is made in proportion to my size, so I appear of average height, and that gives the illusion that Freddy is even bigger. We have sex on camera, and people seem to love it, especially those with a size-difference fetish. You might be surprised at how many of those people there are. I figured, since Freddy and I have so much sex, we should cash in on what we do best. It more than pays the bills, and we live comfortably."

"Joey is really smart," said Freddy.

"I'm not really smart, sweetheart, just enterprising." He reached up to put his hand on Freddy's chin. "Come here..."

Freddy bent to kiss him. "I love you, Joey."

"And I love you, my handsome hunk of beefcake."

Freddy smiled broadly and laughed a little, his face turning red.

Joey said to us, "Before we started the website two years ago, Freddy drove a forklift at the dock here in Franklin for like seven years--a terrible way to squander his amazing talents, and I worked in the I.T. department for the City of Franklin. Why don't we order some food? Blowing Fred gives me an appetite."

During dinner, I discovered that not only does Joey know Winter, but she partnered with them on their website project. He said that Winter thought the idea too scrumptious--her word--not to invest. She heard about their project and wanted to give him the money outright, but he insisted that she receive something for her investment. I had little doubt that she might try the same ploy with us, and if she did, I found it nice to know that an alternative existed. I asked him if he were willing to say what percentage she received, and he hadn't minded telling me that she got 5% of the profits quarterly. He wanted her to recoup some of her investment, so she could help someone else with it, and with that understanding, she agreed to it.

Between the two of them, Joey seemed the dominant one, especially in conversation. I have a hard time describing Freddy, except to say that he had a mild intellectual disability because anyone who could run a forklift couldn't have too much of one. Perhaps, he was just a bit slow to learn. One thing for sure, though, he seemed incredibly kind and friendly; you couldn't help but like him, and he had an endearing charm. I had no doubt that he and Joey loved one another, they needed each other, and in their own way, they protected one another.

I asked Joey if we ever needed an I.T. person if he were willing to assist, and he said he would love to help and that it sounded like fun. He offered to help with a website too, but I told him I would need to think about it. A website would likely have our photos, and I thought Thomas Sawyer would frown at putting myself on the net that way. I still needed to keep a relatively low profile nationally speaking.

After dinner, we made an early night of it; we had things to do the next morning. Since the three of them stopped off at a store, we made it home before Albert. When we arrived on the fifth level of the Minotaur, we found Edgerton, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, sitting on the floor with his back against our door. He stood when he saw us.

"Good evening, fellas," he said.

"Good evening, detective," said Max.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Max unlocked our door, and the three of us entered, greeted by a living area with nowhere comfortable for company to sit.

"Jeez, you guys need furniture," he said.

"That's on our ever-shortening list." I gestured to our dining table for him to sit. "What can we do for you?"

"As James and I ate dinner, we chatted. I got to know him; he got to know me. Apparently, I'm the type of guy he's attracted to, which hadn't hurt any. During all that, he volunteered some information that he didn't feel comfortable mentioning before. He had answered our questions to the best of his ability and knowledge, but we didn't ask this one specific question. It's one thing to ask who might want to pin two murders on him, but it's quite another to ask him, of the people he works with, who he believes might have done it."

"And...," I said.

"He sounds like he's observant and a decent judge of character. That's why he requested to speak to the two of you. He says he trusts you both, and especially you, Max. He said that in the past, he had always dismissed this as something else, his imagination or interest perhaps, but there is one guy where he works, he knows nothing about him, but there have been occasions where he caught him staring at him. He admits that it's extremely loose evidence; that's the reason he hadn't mentioned it. It could mean nothing, but the guy is the only person he can think of that, in some manner, acts a little odd toward him. He gave us the name Robert Neuhouser."

"That's the guy who wouldn't give us Chadwell's address," said Max.

"I take it you have people digging as we speak," I said.

"I have people digging deep into him and Daniel Newberry for a connection. I asked James how sure he felt about it based on his impressions. He said about 70% sure, and Neuhouser is on the list of people that Pecker might have left in charge."

"Newberry...Neuhouser...coincidence?" asked Max.

"We don't know. It could be," said Edgerton.

"So, what are you thinking?" I asked.

"James said he would do whatever we asked of him to catch the guy, not that he has much choice. If we don't catch him, he remains the target of a killer, and he can't live his life like that. Worst case scenario...we find nothing or not enough, and that could happen; we'll have to see. I wanted to let you know what's going on. I'll speak to Trouble about it."--he rose from his seat, and we followed--"This could take a while, but whether we're still searching tomorrow, or we got the guy, do all your friends a favor and go buy some furniture. Trouble can help you find a good place. Goodnight, fellas."

We wished him goodnight, and Max hugged me. "Did you hear the detective call Malor, James?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I noticed that. Sadist or not, I think he likes him."

"Like I told you, I don't think he is a sadist, not a real one anyway. His nature caused him to feel he must be one, out of circumstantial necessity."

"As many people like to point out, I have a horse cock, so why hadn't I become a sadist?" Max unbuttoned my shirt to remove it.

"Nature doesn't comply with the human sentiment behind the blanket statement, 'If I can do it, so can you,'" he said, "because that's not always the case."

"Malor rides the outer fringes of morality," I said, "but I admit, he sounds like he's as ethical as possible with it; his sex partners know what they're getting into. I just hope he doesn't hurt Edgerton."

Max unbuttoned his shirt. "The detective's a big boy; he can take care of himself." Max removed his shirt and kissed me. "I don't know about you, but watching Freddy cum made me really horny, and I want you."

"I was hoping you would say that. How do you want it?"

"Right here...on the table."

My brows rose practically into my hairline. "Where we eat?"

He began undoing my pants. "In this place, I guarantee you it's happened before." Max squatted as he pulled my pants and underwear down just far enough to take out my dong, and he began to blow me.

It hadn't taken long for him to have to stand and bend a bit as my cock hardened. Once it had, he undid his pants, pulled them down below his ass, turned around, and leaned over completely with his head lying on the table. Max and I had not had sex like that. Normally, we were naked and took more time, but Max wanted it right then. He wanted it fast and rough like we fucked on the table of some restaurant and were afraid to get caught by the waiter returning with our change. The globes of his golden furry ass cheeks looked so inviting that I squatted behind him and jammed my tongue against my little friend whose depths I had often plundered that week.

Max moaned and squirmed as I pleasured him, the prelude to the main attraction that stood as firm as ever. I spit on his hole one last time and onto the head of my cock, and once satisfied with their wetness, I stood, bent a bit to aim, and I felt the heat of Max's hole. I opened my mouth to ask him how he wanted it, but he told me to just fuck him hard and thoroughly. So, grasping his hips, I gave a mighty pull, entering him as smoothly and quickly as I dared. He arched his back and yelled, "Fuck!" When my pelvis lay against his cheeks, I waited. He put his forehead onto the table, his breathing shallow and uneven. "I love how full you make me feel."